by Cara Bastone
“Oh. Beth’s here!” Mary stepped around him and weaved her way through the crowd.
John stood there a moment longer, looking down at the space where she’d just been. He gave his head a shake and headed toward the bar. He shook hands with Sebastian, who looked like he was restraining a smile, and then Tyler, who looked torn between amusement and suspicion.
“All good?” Sebastian asked, clapping John on the back.
John had actually spent a fair amount of time with these two men over the last few weeks and he liked both of them. Except when they were teasing him over his apparently obvious reaction to Mary’s proximity.
“Yeah,” John said gruffly, catching the pretty bartender’s eye. “Long week, though. You?”
“Pretty good, pretty good,” Sebastian said a little distractedly.
“Yeah. Me too,” Tyler chimed in, sounding just as vague.
John paid for his beer and turned back to face the dance floor, the way the other two men were. He immediately understood their distracted manner. Via and Fin were on the dance floor, cutting two very good-looking rugs.
“Where’s Matty tonight?” John asked.
“Got a babysitter for him,” Sebastian responded, tearing his gaze from his girlfriend. “Actually, Kylie is looking after him.”
“Can you believe that?” Tyler chimed in, looking a little bemused with the development. “Eight months ago, I wouldn’t have even trusted her to be at home on her own. And now she’s looking after your kid.”
“She’s come a long way since Thanksgiving,” Sebastian agreed. “And I gotta admit, it’s nice to be out on the town with you and Mary at the same time. I don’t actually remember the last time that happened.”
“She seems happy,” John said, unable to keep himself from finding Mary in the crowd, laughing at something Beth was saying and lighting up her corner of the room.
“It takes a lot to keep Mary down,” Seb replied. “She’s been through a lot over the last few years. As traumatic as these last few weeks have been, they weren’t anything that she couldn’t handle.”
“She’s strong,” John agreed. “When you first meet her, you kind of think that someone that happy must be out of touch or naive. But she’s not. She works hard to be happy. I respect that.”
Tyler’s beer came down on the bar as he turned to John. “All right, I’m just gonna say it. You avoided answering at Mary’s party, but come on, it’s obvious. You’re into her. She’s in—Mmph!”
Fin, possibly with the accuracy of a clairvoyant, had appeared at Tyler’s side in just enough time to clap a hand over his mouth, tugging him toward the dance floor. She hissed something that sounded suspiciously like “Let them figure it out!”
But John couldn’t be sure. He cleared his throat and finished his beer a lot faster than he’d anticipated. He chanced a quick glance at Sebastian, who looked about as uncomfortable as John felt. “He has a big mouth,” Sebastian said after a beat. “But he means well. And he wants what’s best for Mary.”
“So do I,” John said carefully.
Thirty quiet, awkward seconds passed.
“Look, man,” Sebastian said. “If you—”
“Who the hell is that?” John interrupted as soon as his eyes zeroed in on the redheaded male model talking to Mary. John might not have cared if not for the fact that Mary seemed about three shades duller than she usually did. She seemed almost to have shrunk in on herself, one hand gripping the other elbow and her eyes on this stooge’s chest instead of his face.
A woman with beautiful black hair down her back tucked under the redhead’s arm and Mary seemed to wilt even further.
John put the pieces together just as Sebastian answered.
“Aw, shit. That’s Doug. Her cheating ex.”
“And that’s the woman he left her for?”
“Yeah. Shit. I told Mary that we should choose another bar, but she insisted on this one. It’s one of her favorites, and she said it would be like Doug won if she avoided it.”
The guy, Doug, was giving Mary a casual wave and pulling his girl to the other side of the bar. He passed by John, and John had to resist the juvenile urge to stick out one foot and make Darling Doug face-plant on the parquet.
John’s eyes went immediately back to Mary, who was now talking with Richie, her mouth pulled down and her eyes sad.
“This,” John said in a voice he pretty much only used in a courtroom, “is completely unacceptable.”
And he meant it. With every beating centimeter of his cracked-open heart. Seeing Mary with her light this dimmed was a crime against nature. Against the universe. It defied the laws of physics and made John’s skin crawl.
Doug, he couldn’t care less about. Doug could jump in a lake. It was Mary that John was concerned about, and before he thought twice about it, John slapped his empty beer bottle down on the bar and strode through the crowd with one thought and one thought only pulsing through his mind along with the beat of the music. He was going to turn Mary’s light back on if he died trying.
* * *
WELL, THAT SUCKED.
It was only a matter of time before Mary ran into Doug in the bar he considered to be his home turf. It just blew that it had to be on this night, when she’d been so determined to have a good time. Her shop was put back together and glittering again, she was caught up on her insurance paperwork and all of her closest friends were here, celebrating with her. It should have been a night for the ages. Instead she was just feeling defeated.
These were the moments she missed Cora the most. Cora would have told Doug to take a long walk off a short pier. She would have intercepted him before he’d even approached Mary. She would have told him that the bar was closed for him tonight but try again later, ding-dong.
Instead, Mary had been caught unawares when she’d heard his voice in her ear. She’d been unable to think of anything to do besides play nice when she’d turned and seen Doug and Anna. And now all she felt was the dizzying absence where her good mood had just been. It had been a hard two weeks, so there were plenty of bummed-out feelings to rush in and set up shop.
Richie, sensing her change in demeanor, leaned in to ask her something, but the music was too loud and she couldn’t hear him. Beth too was looking at Mary in concern. Mary glanced over one shoulder and watched as Doug pulled out a barstool for Anna, boxing her in against the bar the way he used to do with Mary.
It hit Mary that it wasn’t just Cora that Mary was lonely for. She was lonely for a partner. She wanted someone who knew the whole story. Her whole story. She wanted someone who was going to crawl into bed with her tonight. Someone who would lower the stakes on her sadness and discomfort. Because what would this fleeting feeling really matter if there was someone who could roll his eyes at Doug? Who made sure her drink wasn’t empty. Who looped an arm around her neck from behind and whispered in her ear. Who wanted to leave with her.
She just wanted someone to want to leave with her.
“Mary?” Richie was saying, obviously concerned, leaning toward her.
She shook her head, horrified when the backs of her eyes started to tighten. No. Not now. No crying right now.
“Mary,” a different voice said into her ear. An exhilaratingly familiar voice. A two-toned voice. A voice made up of two voices mixed into one. A man with so many different facets he couldn’t be contained by one sound.
He didn’t loop an arm around her neck the way she’d just been fantasizing about, but he did put two of his heavy fingers on the inside of her elbow and press in, just a bit, to get her to turn toward him.
And turn she did.
She’d never seen this look on his face before.
Oh, Christ. She knew that look. That was a you-might-not-know-it-yet-but-I’m-kinda-the-man kind of look. That there, ladies and gentlemen, was a knee-knocker.
Mary gaped up at
him. What was happening? Was he about to kiss her?
The hand that was on the inside of her arm trailed down until palm met palm. He gave her a gentle tug that had her half stepping into him.
“Dance with me,” she watched his lips say.
Dance with him? With John? Never in seven million years would she think that John Modesto-Whitford was a bar dancer.
“Oh,” she said, thrown off by his unexpected mood and still conscious of Doug on one side of the bar. “I... I don’t know.” She dug her heels in.
He didn’t tug her again. Instead, he let her hand drop, but he held her eye contact. Those formerly icy eyes of his were backlit with some confident determination. For just a moment, she could see his resemblance to his father—in a good way. She could see that buried somewhere inside John’s gorgeous heart was a man who knew how to get what he wanted. And what he wanted, apparently, was Mary on the dance floor.
That intoxicating stare still glued to hers, John took one step back and then another. He was five feet out from her, on the edge of the dance floor, his eyes reeling her in. A familiar song played, the beat dropped, John’s feet stepped to one side, his shoulders hit on the downbeat, one finger came up, he pointed at Mary.
Her mouth dropped open.
He was dancing for her, in a room full of people, tempting her to come play with him. He pointed at the ceiling next, back to her, his hips getting in on the rhythm. He was a sexy-dorky dancer, confident and—gah—smiling.
It was the smile that did it. He had a smile that utilized every single one of those lines on his face, this time for good. It was like every inch of his face smiled, not just his mouth. Sure, his teeth flashed and his lips widened, but it was his smiling eyes, his squinched-up nose, his ears lifted a quarter inch that really did Mary in.
Unexpected, a laugh of pure joy bubbled up out of her. Mary threw her hands over her mouth, laughing with radiant happiness as she watched John two-step for her, his eyes still on hers.
It wasn’t a choice, really, it was just what happened next. Mary took four little steps and ended up in John’s arms, the momentum of her impact spinning them one hundred and eighty degrees. He took her hand and spun her out and then back in so that she landed against him again, their hip bones clacking and their unabashed grins only six inches apart.
She remembered how much she loved this song and threw her arms around his neck. His hands were firm at her hips and back, guiding her against him. She’d danced with both Tyler and Sebastian before, but never like this. It wasn’t indecent, definitely PG-13, but he held her closer than he ever had before, the sexiness offset by the grinning, ebullient joy emanating from him. She knew then, she just knew, that John wanted nothing more than to be close to her. At this moment at least, she was getting what she wished for, a man who wanted to be next to her.
God, that felt good. He dipped her a little, swung her a few feet farther into the crowd, away from the edge. The other people on the dance floor were simply blurs of color and clothes. Only John was in high-definition. The ever-present shading on his jaw, the undone top button of his shirt, the springtime blue of his eyes, the visible heartbeat in his throat.
It was there that her eyes bottomed out. On his pulse point. On the physical evidence of John’s heart. The grumpy-sweet heart she had such an unbelievable soft spot for. She planted a palm against his throat as the beat to the song intensified, all the dancers really caught up in it now. He hadn’t taken his eyes from hers for minutes, but now his gaze truly searched her.
She finally tore her eyes away, only to rest her cheek on his sternum and experience his heartbeat from the main source. His heart hammered under her cheek. He wanted her. He’d crossed a crowded room to be closer to her. He held her.
And with every speeding beat of his heart, every slide of his feet, every press of his hands at her back, John gave Mary everything she needed.
* * *
THERE WERE SOME nights that made John feel like a middle schooler again. In a good way. And this was one of them. His and Mary’s moods had apparently been infectious to their friends, and the rest of the time in the bar, even with Dud Doug’s presence looming in the corner, had been a deliciously good time. Now it was past midnight and the group had left the bar, walking in a large, too-loud crowd down the sidewalk toward Mary’s house.
John just smiled to himself as they all chattered loudly, laughing hard and leaning on one another.
Mary had invited everyone back to her place for a nightcap, and she led the group at the front. John was the caboose, locking her downstairs door after him and watching everyone file up her stairs to her apartment.
He felt the tug to be close to her. He’d wanted to walk next to her on the way home. But he knew just how obvious a move that would be.
The ten minutes of delirious dancing they’d shared had been hands down in the top three experiences of John’s life. It was no surprise to him that all their friends had pretty much gotten a contact high.
He was almost, almost positive that she’d felt the exact same way. That she’d clutched him as tightly as he’d clutched her. That, tonight at least, she was kinda giving him a green light.
John mulled over this green light. He’d been given green lights before, of course. But usually in a club, on a dance floor, when all there was next to do was get the heck to one of their houses and take their clothes off.
Mary’s green light had been in her smile, her cheek over his heart, the way she’d lingered at his elbow while the group had laughed and joked and bought more drinks.
Now they were back in her apartment, Mary passing out drinks and filling bowls with pretzels, and John couldn’t tell if the green-light moment had passed or not. He figured it would be a hell of a lot easier to figure out if there weren’t so many friends sitting in between them on the couch.
And it would probably be easier to figure out if Tyler weren’t suspiciously looking at John pretty much every time John looked up. John couldn’t help but shake his head and muffle his laughter into his hand. Yeah, didn’t seem like tonight was the night. Unless he outwaited everyone else, but that seemed dangerously forward.
Besides, Richie and he had been at work at 7:00 a.m. that morning. Richie’s eyes were closed as he leaned back in the armchair, a beer listing in one hand.
Mary swooped over and righted the beer, squeezing Richie’s knee. “You wanna sleep in the guest room tonight?” she asked Richie. “You look mighty sleepy.”
And there was John’s answer. He highly doubted that Mary was planning on having John stay over in her bed if she was inviting Richie to sleep in the next room over. The disappointment he swallowed down was eased by the surprising amount of relief that came with it. He didn’t want things to move too fast with Mary. He didn’t want to ambush her. Tonight had been the first night that he’d felt something shift between them, and to try to sleep with her would almost be doing that shift a disservice. He didn’t want to whip the tablecloth off the table just to watch the china smash on the floor. He didn’t need to rush her. Or himself. Or the moment.
It meant that this green light he’d been getting wasn’t for sex, and it wasn’t for tonight. This green light was a green light for possibility, for hope, for maybe. And that was good enough for John. More than good enough.
He wouldn’t have minded, though, an opportunity this evening to put his cards on the table, but he didn’t particularly want to put his cards on the table in front of Tyler.
“No, no, you sweet, wonderful woman,” Richie said, blinking his tired eyes up at her. “I think I’m just gonna catch a cab back to my neighborhood.”
John inwardly nodded. That was his cue. There was no way that Richie was actually catching a cab. The two of them were MetroCard people. Which meant that Richie was going to get on the train at 1:00 a.m. alone, and John didn’t like that. Richie was thin and trendy in his tailored suits and had been p
ushed around on the train before. But never when John was with him. Which was why John stretched, finished the glass of water that Mary had presented him with a few minutes earlier and rose to his feet along with Richie.
“I’ll share with you,” John said with a yawn.
Richie looked mildly surprised, as did Tyler and Sebastian, but John ignored all three of them and just went to put his cup in the dishwasher. When he turned, he was alone in the kitchen with Mary, who was standing a few feet away, her back against her countertops.
She was worrying her bottom lip between her shiny, white teeth, and her eyes were stuck somewhere around the top button of his shirt. Her body language spoke of nerves and uncertainty, but it was nothing like she’d been with Doug in the bar. Everything about the hands she fluttered around the skirt of her dress and the skate of her hair over her shoulders said I like this.
“I’m gonna head out,” he told her unnecessarily, considering he’d just announced the same thing to the entire living room. I want to stay, his eyes said.
“I guess it’s getting pretty late,” she replied. What just happened between us at the bar? her eyes said back.
“Crazy night, huh?” I don’t know, but I liked it.
“The good kind of crazy.” The strap of her sundress fell over one shoulder and John reached forward to slip it back up her arm. He took longer than strictly necessary, smoothing it over her soft skin with his heavy fingers.
The voices in the other room crescendoed into a playful argument, and once again, they were reminded that they weren’t alone.
She frowned. “I needed a good kind of crazy night, to be honest. I’m going to visit my parents tomorrow afternoon through Monday, and I’ll need all the fortification I can get.”
“I wish you didn’t have to dread going there so much,” he said in a low voice. I wish I could come with you, his eyes said.
“I know,” she said softly. God, me too, her eyes said back.
